


You're Only Human, so, You Feel Things Sometimes

by Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Universe, Characters reflecting on their lives a lot, Effects of the Enchantment on the Village, Exploring the Enchantment further, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Grieving, Happy Ending, Lots of mentions of mental illness, M/M, Potentially More to add, Pranks, Sad Endings too, Stanfou family (Modern!AU), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weddings, contemplative Plumette, doting father Cogsworth, lefou has PTSD, mischievous Chip Potts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-07 23:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces/pseuds/Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces
Summary: This is for thestanfoubrew's and remuslupinsmiled's 30 Days of Beauty and the Beast challenge.Leather ~ Gaston reflects on his life and finds pieces missingFirst ~ Maurice has a surprise for Belle and Adam on the night of their wedding.Bright ~ Lumière muses on why he was transformed into a candle within the first few days of the curse





	1. Morning

Plumette stands alone there on the roof, and she wiggles her toes for the first time in five years. She mumbles under her breath something that sounds suspiciously like _where is he?_ and _he’s going to miss it if he doesn’t hurry up._

The scuttling of hurried footsteps behind her startles her from her thoughts. She spins around and she finds herself unable to be angry with the bedraggled Lumière for very long. Plumette is met with Lumière in the most disarrayed state she’s ever seen. 

Or, at the very least, this is the most disarray she’s seen him in these five years, but, to the two of them, those five years felt more like a life time. 

Lumière’s hair is in complete disarray, and she can’t help but admit she might have been the cause of that.She giggles a little at how Lumière’s night and day clothes seemed to be at war with one another over how much more he’d put on of one than taken off of the other. 

“Pleased to see me?” He asks a large smile creeping up into his tired eyes. 

“Oh yes.” She gives him a cheeky grin. “I see you’re much like the sky, _mon amour_. You can’t quite decide if you want to be night or day.” 

Lumière pouts at her. “You’re the one who wanted to get up far too early _cherie._ Adam gave us the day off. Why couldn’t we just sleep?” 

“I wanted to feel cold again, “ she confesses her voice becoming suddenly contemplative. “I don’t remember the cool feeling of morning dew against my feet. I wanted to. I wanted to know what it was like to feel the morning on my face.”

Lumière softens at this, and he notices that Plumette’s shoes have been long discarded behind the doorway. He looks at her petit bare feet and how her toes slightly curl against the cold stone. He thinks about telling her she should put her shoes back on, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her to confine her feet after they had been feathers for so long.

He climbs through the doorway out onto the roof. The cool morning breeze makes him shiver, but the goosebumps on his arms make him human so he doesn’t mind. He pulls her close into him and rests his chin on her head. She leans back into him and smiles.

 _The world is dark,_ she thinks, _so dark right now._

She looks back at her beloved, and she is almost happy to see he is embracing full humanity at this point and not capitalizing on the party tricks he’d discovered he could do last night.

She wants it dark.

She wants to experience all the wonders of seeing sunlight for the first time as a human being, and she thinks it might be good for him to know he doesn’t have to make light with his hands anymore. She wants him to see how light springs naturally from the sky, and, maybe, she thinks, there was a metaphor in there somewhere for the burdens they’d all carried.

Plumette relaxes into Lumière’s warmth, and she loves how the warmth comes from another human body and not the feathers of her tail.

The couple stands in the pitch darkness that comes just before the sky becomes some god’s canvas, and their paintbrush traces all the pinks of love into the horizon. They stand fully human under the black sky waiting for magic, creation, or some other source a new day’s genesis.

Lumière grasps Plumette’s softly curved shoulders, and he thinks about how long he’s waited for this exact feeling of peace to creep up on him and bloom along the trellis of his heart. Peace had been dormant for so long. He thinks about how long he’s waited for this exact morning and the dawn to break through all the darkness the curse created. He thinks about winter and the eternal winter present here for years, and how Adam and all the rest of them seemed to be living in an eternal winter of their own.

 _Maybe the sunrise will bring peace to my beloved as well_ , he thinks.

The sun’s vines climb up the sky in their bright yellows, reds, and oranges reaching out from the base of the horizon. The sky quickly takes on a greenish blue hue and begins to brighten into pinkish purple with the yellow-orange petals of the sun springing forth from the base of the horizon.

Plumette puts her head on his shoulder and nuzzles him with her cheek. She’s missed this contact with him, and how he knows to put his hand around her waist without her saying a word. His hands no longer burn and hurt her, and it no longer pains them to comfort one another.

She doesn’t remember what was worse in that moment the physical pain of her feather tail being set aflame or the pain of knowing they may never hold each other again.

She puts her hand on his chest and feels his heart thumping beneath her hand, and she smiles to herself for she’s missed his heartbeat. She’s missed his shoulders. She missed him even though he was there.

The sun blooms in it’s blinding white over the horizon line. It makes its ascent up the sky alerting everyone to its presence. It blinds the world to help it see.

Lumière blinks away the light from his eyes, and he looks down at Plumette who has wisely buried her head in Lumière’s shoulder. He laughs because, when he’s really honest, she is the smart one. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth of the sun wash over him, and he lets himself revel in the light that, for once, is coming from somewhere other than his hands.

Plumette takes Lumière in with a deep breath. She memorizes ever detail on his night shirt, and every curve of his arm. She closes her eyes and thinks that this moment must be how a rose feels when it finally blooms in the spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again and welcome,
> 
> So, I'm so excited to be doing this! It's going to be a nice break from all my graduate courses this summer. That being said I'm currently taking three credit classes and a teaching practicum over the course of four weeks this month. Therefore, if I'm a few days late posting/don't finish within the month of June - go easy on me. 
> 
> I'm doing my level best to do this as a reason to write as exercise in self-care. But, the fact of the matter is self-care also might look like just going to bed. I just wanted you all to be aware of where I'm at just in case I can't get something up. 
> 
> I'm making this challenge into writing both Stanfou (my core and regular pairing) as well as writing pairings I don't write as often or aren't the featured couple in my stories. 
> 
> So, here's to day one!


	2. Jealousy

Stanley can’t help but sort of admire him physically after all he really is an intimidating specimen of a man. Stanley can’t help but realize that Gaston isn’t wrong when he says that. But, he also can’t help but wonder if Gaston is wrong about other things. 

Stanley marvels at Gaston’s ability to appear confident even when he is totally wrong. Stanley hardly ever says anything, but he reacts. He has a hard time controlling his facial expression when he hears and sees LeFou make a comedic remark about a rather terrifying looking scar in the shape of Gaston’s teeth. He has no idea what to say no matter how many times he’s seen the bite mark. It still shocks him every time, and it gives him an odd feeling of malaise. 

It’s just another night at the tavern, and Stanley sips on a pint while reflecting on Gaston’s relationship with LeFou. Gaston and LeFou are obviously close, and, if Gaston cared about anyone, it would likely be either LeFou or Belle. However, Stanley doesn’t know if Gaston is … well, frankly capable of seeing the positives in anyone other than himself. 

But, Stanley wonders if that’s not what LeFou helps Gaston to do. Stanley supposes LeFou must aid Gaston in seeing the wonders of the world. LeFou is always so patient with Gaston, but surely LeFou must have to laugh a little about Gaston’s obvious obliviousness to the world. Stanley wonders if it’s all an act and if the two of them laugh at what fools he and Gaston both make of themselves. 

_Everyone else does._ Stanley muses to himself. _But, is this all enough for him? Is he fulfilled in just following Gaston? Doesn’t he want someone to love him the same way he pretends to worship Gaston?_

Stanley wonders if Gaston ever tells LeFou what he likes about him. 

_Because if LeFou were that close to me, I would tell him everyday how wonderful he is, and how special he is._ Stanley muses. _So, surely Gaston must have._

He pouts slightly when he sees that old song starting again. He turns away with a roll of his eyes, because he doesn’t want to sing about Gaston. Gaston doesn’t need his ego bolstered yet again, but Stanley doesn’t know how to tell LeFou that. Stanley looks at LeFou and, maybe for the first time, he wonders if LeFou even knows how Gaston’s treatment of him appears to everyone else. 

Stanley’s mind is seized by this for a moment as fake smiles and enthusiasm course through him like an act that he’s rehearsed just a little too well. He always thought that LeFou was just humoring Gaston, and that LeFou just acted, too. But, it suddenly occurs to Stanley that maybe LeFou doesn’t know how deep a hold Gaston appears to have on him. Stanley wonders if LeFou might even think that he deserves Gaston’s maltreatment. 

Stanley clenches his fist and his knuckles turn white with his anger. Tom places a warning hand on his shoulder before Stanley’s hand and Tom’s face become LeFou’s guides onto a table. 

Stanley realizes that Gaston simply doesn’t understand the responsibility he has with all his power and influence, and his thoughts turn to all the things that Gaston has asked Stanley to do that he followed blindly. Stanley feels a knot of guilt form in his stomach from how he dumped Belle’s laundry over at the prompting of the others in the village, and how Gaston didn’t even notice that they’d done it. 

Stanley’s reflections lead him to wonder if Gaston even knows what kind of power he holds, and Stanley comes to the conclusion that Gaston does. The entire tavern quiets when he offers to follow Maurice and “believes” his fantastical story about the “beast.” Gaston acts well, but Stanley sees through it. So does Tom apparently because when Stanley looks over at him the older man looks pensive like he often does after reading about some particularly new scientific discovery. Stanley wonders why Tom often pretends not to know things when he might be one of the most well read individuals in the village. But, Stanley knows that if people knew what Tom read about that they would shun him just like they did Belle. Tom had often said that he just hoped the young lady learned how brutal this village is to new ideas. Stanley shudders when he remembers Tom’s account of Villeneuve from when Tom was young. 

Tom told Stanley once that he brought in the latest pamphlet from Thomas Paine and was reading over it when one of the village men grabbed him by the collar, called him a traitor, and took him to the officials. Tom was a young fifteen or so at the time, and was put in the stocks for treason over night. Dick sat at the base of the stocks and talked to him so he wouldn’t have to be alone. Tom learned to keep his thoughts private after that. 

Stanley recalls Tom saying once that he’s happy that Belle is a woman because while they might laugh at least they’d have a harder time getting away with physically hurting her. But, Stanley could tell that he still hurt for her with every rumor that was spread. 

Stanley is startled from his thoughts when he sees LeFou and Gaston leaving the tavern. 

Stanley debates grabbing LeFou’s wrist and begging him to be careful because, in that moment, Stanley feels like LeFou is going off to war all over again because LeFou’s face says everything. Stanley sees that LeFou is sort of uncomfortable with how Gaston is treating this situation. Stanley really wants to reach out to LeFou and every fiber of his being is telling him to remind LeFou that he doesn’t have to follow Gaston out of that tavern if he doesn’t want to. 

But, Tom tells him to let LeFou go. 

Stanley trusts Tom because Tom tells him that until LeFou sees Gaston for what he is nothing will ever change. 

Stanley knows Tom is right, and he hates it because if he were Gaston LeFou wouldn’t ever have to suffer. 

Stanley ponders why he’s friends with Gaston. He, Tom, and Dick are the last three people left in the tavern. 

“Tom why do we stick around Gaston?” Stanley asks. “I mean you and I know that he’s terrible, and he never talks to us. So, why stay?” 

Tom bites his lower lip for a moment. “You know I ask myself that a lot, but you know why I stay?” 

Stanley looks at Tom expectantly, and he’s surprised when Tom takes his hand. 

“I stay for his shadow because if we turn our backs on Gaston we lose nothing. LeFou, he loses everything, and until he leaves we can’t.” Tom stares deeply into Stanley’s eyes. “You love that boy don’t you? I can tell, so don’t lie. I stay because I can leave anytime I want, but until LeFou realizes that we all have his back if he wants to set himself free I won’t go. I’ll endure because it doesn’t hurt me much. Gaston is LeFou’s everything, and one day Gaston is going to leave that boy. He won’t have the courage to find me, but if I’m here I can pick up the pieces when the air he breathes gets ripped right out of his lungs.” 

Stanley feels Tom squeeze his hand. “Is it hard not to want to be Gaston sometimes if only because you know that you could fill that role in the community better? You know are you ever jealous that someone that thick and cruel gets to have all the say?” 

“I think about that everyday, Stan. I really do. I watch him, and I know something is going to go wrong on this new little excursion Maurice is heading. This is going to end in tears, Stan. And we have to be ready. Gaston is going to blow up and someone is going to get hurt. I don’t who it will be, but I know for sure, at least one of them, is going to come back with some cuts and bruises. Some might be visible, but most of them won’t.” 

Stanley feels like Tom is checking off items on a list of fears he composed years ago. 

“So, what do we do?” Stanley asks him. 

“We wait for the hurricane, and we prepare for the worst.” Tom rubs a thumb along Stanley’s knuckles. “I don’t pretend to know what will happen, but I know that no matter how angry Gaston makes you remember you only have to listen to Gaston until LeFou realizes he’s safe with us. We just have to be patient and talk to him when we can. But, Stan, as frustrating as it is — be gentle. Kay? LeFou … he doesn’t know anything else.” 

Stanley knits his eyebrows together and takes a sip of his beer. _I just hope one day he sees there’s more to life than Gaston … than this provincial life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot was so hard for me to write. I'm not sure why. I think I just had a really hard time with the prompt. 
> 
> I wanted more of Tom and Stanley's friendship because it's sort of a rare thing to see, and while many of these one-shots focus on common pairings I tried to put my emphasis on pairings in this fandom that receive less attention, or friendships that you just don't see in this fandom. 
> 
> I love the idea of Tom being sort of a "closet philosopher" type of person. He admires Belle because he knows she's more courageous than he is, and I thought that was also interesting. I also love the idea of Stan looking up to Tom a lot. Maybe I'll expand on this someday I dunno. 
> 
> But anyway, I threw out a couple references to things. I referenced Thomas Paine who was almost a victim of the Reign of Terror. Despite being an American citizen, he was born in England and supported sending King Louis over to America to learn how to "be an equal citizen" Robespierre didn't like that idea, and thus, Paine was imprisoned. I thought that was an interesting parallel for Tom himself. 
> 
> Yes the hurricane thing was a sort of nod to Hamilton. 
> 
> The last line is also a reference to Belle's line in Belle/Belle (reprise).
> 
> My classes are super hectic, but it's nice to take time for these things. So, I hope you enjoy this one despite it being REALLY different from the last one. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	3. Midnight

_It really is late,_ Chip thinks to himself as he looks at all the adults still glowing with the fervor of the evening. 

But, Chip had insisted that he could make it all the way until midnight because this is Mme Belle’s special night, and he wants to be part of the festivities. LeFou and Stanley had made the night fun for Chip too, but Mrs. Potts had shooed them off to dance hours ago. 

Chip smiles to himself because he knows, even if it’s small, LeFou and Stanley will have a party like this one someday. Chip hopes he’s old enough to appreciate it because he’s certain all he will remember about Belle and Adam’s wedding is that he was tired and his shoes were uncomfortable. 

But, Chip will never forget how Mme Belle saved them all. He looks over the crowd, and Belle’s head is resting softly on Adam’s chest as he slowly spins her around the dance floor. She looks content, and Chip is happy because Mme Belle and M. Adam are happy. 

Chip smiles and plops down on a chair near the door to get a better view of the different couples for the last hour that he’s allowed to be awake. Chip smiles to himself as he watches his mother and father dancing. 

Chip can’t help but notice how happy his parents are, and, he thinks, that it’s likely because they had so much time apart. He doesn’t like to think about how lonely his father must have been all that time Chip and Mrs. Potts had been cursed. Chip recalls how even when he felt alone his mother would remind him that one day he would see the sun again. Chip is certain his mother is the best in the whole world, and that his father must be the bravest man that ever lived. For, Chip realizes that his father had no one all those years, and that made him sad. He wondered if “The Enchantress,” Agathe, would come back to spoil their fun again. 

Chip is thankful she is here. Belle had considered inviting her, but then she realized that Agathe was no longer in the woods near the castle. 

Chip swings his legs nervously as he watches and waits for crazy old beggar ladies to burst through the front door. He really doesn’t want to spend another five years as a tea cup if he can help it, and maybe if they play a really good game of hide and seek Agathe will think they threw the party for her. 

Chip doesn’t want to see her again, but he won’t tell her that. He is afraid of Agathe. All of his memories of her have to do with death and losing his freedom. He is terrified of becoming an intimate object forever, and he sometimes has nightmares about never being able to move again. 

He shudders at the thought of that big door opening to reveal a rainstorm and a lady in a big black cloak. The lady who will turn even Mme Belle into a pretty feather duster or a wardrobe. 

Chip looks up at the big clock as it tolls the half hour. 

His eyes go wide, and he rushes out into the dance to find LeFou and Stanley. 

“I want a turn!” Chip squeals with delight. 

His former melancholy reflections are long forgotten for he is determined to make the last half hour the most exciting one of his life. 

LeFou smiles at Stanley, and Stanley, to his credit, bows out and lets Chip have a turn dancing with his “brother.” 

“So, you finally decided to join us?” LeFou hoists Chip up onto his hip.

“Yes. I was just thinking.” Chip grins and nuzzles into LeFou’s shoulder. 

“Hmmm … about what?” LeFou asks. 

“Well, first of all you and Stanley can’t have one of these parties until I’m older. I want to remember more than my shoes.” Chip states emphatically. 

LeFou laughs, but concedes that that is a good idea. 

“And, I was worried that Agathe might come back.” Chip puts his lips close to LeFou’s ear because he doesn’t want to spoil the evening. 

“And why would that be?” LeFou gently twirls in a circle and dips Chip so that his hair touches the floor. 

“Because the last time she came was at a party, and Adam is different now and he wasn’t quite as happy. But, he was happier that day than he usually was, and she always comes when things are going okay. And when she comes … people get hurt.” Chip’s voice gets quieter and quieter as he explains his thoughts. 

LeFou thinks for a long time. “I understand what you’re saying, and I’m sorry _chouchou._ ” 

“It’s not just us and Adam though. We had to hurt people we loved, too. And if you pretend that you weren’t hurt or that people you loved didn’t get hurt I’ll tell maman that you lied.” Chip states emphatically.

LeFou realizes two things in that moment. The first is that Chip definitely takes after his mother in many ways. But, the second is that Chip may be just about as altruistic as he is. It’s the second realization that scares LeFou most. 

He looks at Chip and settles him so that Chip can see the sort of sad smile spreading across his face. “You’re wonderful. I want you to know that. I want you to know that you’re special no matter what anyone tells you remember that you’re special.”

The clock strikes with twelve loud chimes. 

Mrs. Potts comes over and takes Chip away to go upstairs, and Stanley comes to join LeFou. 

“May I have this dance?” Stanley extends his hand.

“Of course.” LeFou takes Stanley’s hand and lets Stanley whisk him off back into the circle of dancers. 

Chip looks over his mother’s shoulder and watches all of the couples dancing. He watches LeFou and Stanley, Plumette and Lumière, Maestro Cadenza and Mme Garderobe, and Mme Belle and M. Adam. For a moment, Chip thinks, everything will be okay.

_I’m sure I’ll wake up human in the morning._ Chip muses as he falls into a peaceful sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello team,
> 
> I find it fitting that I post this chapter tonight as there are two one-shots in this that deal with the wedding of Adam and Belle. 
> 
> June 6th is the date of my parent's wedding anniversary and 25 years ago right around this time my parents likely danced to Angela Lansbury's edition of "Beauty and the Beast." Therefore, I find it quite fitting that the DVD release of the live action movie is June 6th, or the exact date of my parents 25th wedding anniversary. 
> 
> The sixth one-shot in this series is the one that is officially dedicated to them; however, I thought this would be a nice anecdote to share with all of you on this chapter. I wanted Belle and Adam to have a dance in honor of my parents on this special day. 
> 
> Lastly, thank you all for reading my work and commenting on my work. I always appreciate that especially when my updates are kind of irregular due to my practicum and other such life nonsense. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	4. Bath

Adam considers this bath something like trying to mask a scar on one’s face that runs so deep the white line will never disappear. 

_It’s like bathing Richard the 3rd. None of this is ever going to work. I’m not going to be charming even if my hairy body was all trimmed._ Adam tries not to sulk, but the thoughts wear on him. 

The bath water is still hot, for now, and he wonders how much longer this is going to last. The petals are falling more quickly now, and Adam knows there is not much time left. 

_She’s so beautiful, inside and out, and I’m so … me._ He muses. 

He wants to tell her everything. He wants to confess his deepest love to her, but he just can’t quite figure out how. He loves her. He knows he adores her, but he’s afraid of what she’ll say to him. 

He’s afraid she’ll reject him. She’ll try to hide from him, or, perhaps, she would run away again. He would hardly blame her because a beast falling in love with a lovely human woman is just unnatural. 

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine himself as a human being. He tries to remember what being human was like. He tries to recall what it was like to have men and women fawn over him. 

He can’t remember what it was like to not have horns, a body covered in hair, and those wretched fangs. He knew he looked hideous, and the Enchantress had said it was such that his outside matched his inside. 

So, truly, he must be this hideous inside, too.

So, how could she love him? How could she look at this and know what it meant and see anything more than his despicable nature. 

He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt his fur matting around his eyes. He reached up to swipe the tears away. He tried in vain to collect himself. 

He just couldn’t understand how it had gotten to this. He doesn’t know who to blame other than himself, and so he berates himself for what he should have done differently. 

He should have just let her stay. 

He shouldn’t have laughed at her.

He shouldn’t have listened to his father.

He should have never been born.

If he hadn’t been born, maybe his mother would still be alive. 

He closes his eyes and takes a breath in and relishes in the now lukewarm water. He takes a dripping handful of the soap and water and scrubs his face. 

The door opens and his staff enters giving him all sorts of advice. They try to help him, and he knows they mean well. 

However, when they finally ask him how he feels he decides to be honest. 

“I _feel_ like a fool.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long guys. I've barely had time to do anything much less write. My grad program is kicking my butt. 
> 
> So, this one is really short, but I thought if I made it any longer it would get weird. So, I decided to keep this one short, sweet, and to the point. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	5. Leather

He runs his worn fingers over the hid he’s stripped, and he notices that his seventeen year old hands have already grown calloused and worn. 

_Proper men’s hands_ , he thinks to himself. 

The men around him are murmuring amongst themselves but Gaston pays them no mind. Though, occasionally, he hears them call him a good shot. They praise him for how many he’s been able to kill. 

He focuses on the hide in front of him. It’s a deer hide, but, this last month, he hasn’t been killing deer _._ He shudders because some twisted dark part of him wonders if human hide could be made into leather. 

He accidentally clips himself with the knife he was using to cut apart the skin. He quickly pulls his hand back and studies the cut. 

The crimson color reminds him of something, but he can’t recall what. Yet, it captivates him. The oozing blood pouring out of a small incision. He made a promise doing this once, with someone he loved, someone beautiful.

Who were they? 

He presses his bleeding hand against his eyes. 

_Not again,_ he begs internally to some cruel external force, _Please not again._

But, he finds his mind trying to solve the puzzle of why red reminds him of a promise he made. He promised never to forget, and now he has forgotten. But, to whom and for what cause was the promise made?

He knows it was not his duty to the service of his country, for while a blood oath was implied when joined the military, it was never stated outright. Besides, he remembers signing his name on the sheets of paper just a month ago. 

This pact and promise was so much older and so much more innocent despite being bound by blood. The pact was one of friendship and camaraderie and there was no death involved in the oath. It was simply the promise to remember and love one another for all of their days. 

Remember and love.

Someone beautiful.

Someone smart.

And sometimes just ever so slightly arrogant at times.

But, that’s all he can remember.

He steps away from the hide to go out into the forest near the camp. He wants to be alone, and he needs to get away from the camaraderie and love that abounds in the music of men around a campfire while at war. He finds that there is a sort of love in struggle that it’s painful to remember at the moment, and, even so, he feels too alone to participate. 

He leans against a tree and slowly sinks down with his back pressed against the sturdiness of the trunk. Gaston tries to remember back, and he tries to think back to before last year, but it seems everything is missing or fuzzy at the least. 

He presses his eyes into his knees as his introspective vision swims. There in his mind’s eye he catches a glimpse of playing with a lovely young girl. 

She had been following him and his friends, and she mentioned to him that she had just moved. She asked to ride his tall broad twelve year old shoulders through the market to get a better view. She was only seven, so, being a gentleman, he obliged her. 

Perhaps — perhaps, she was the one he’d promised?

He wonders what will happen when her now twelve year old girlish charm comes to womanhood. For, even in her awkward phase, it is easy for anyone to see she would be beautiful. 

But, something nagged him yet.

He tried to follow the thought, but he couldn’t seem to. 

_Perhaps_ , he thought, _I am in love, and she will grow to be my wife. We will both be happy, and I will tell her stories of all of my adventures. So, I must prove to be a strong hero so I have much to tell her._

_Because you forgot everything else,_ a sharp feminine voice wormed its way into his thoughts. 

Once again fear and frustration set in. 

Why had he been cursed like this? 

Who was that face from the the past he kept longing for?

His friend?

His confident?

His equal?

The person equal to him in age, beauty, strength, and wit. The person he hoped would love him back.

_Perhaps this is merely a lesson. A lesson that love is only for naught, and that the men of our village are right. Love is about dominion for you don’t forget what you have power over._ Gaston muses. _If I can’t remember it. It’s not worth anything._

His heart sinks, and he decides there beneath the oak tree that this life is empty as is he.

The company, to their credit, does notice the change in Gaston. He becomes confident, though, a bit more reckless on the battlefield. His aim becomes even sharper, and he cares little if the deaths of his enemies are painful or painless. They promote I'm for his bravery, and he grows further still to see people as a means to climbing the ranks. 

Gaston grows to mark people as his own one way or another. For, he remembers that he cannot forget that which he has physically marked as his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had this one written by hand in my notebook. I hope you enjoy it. A little note on this is that Disney released a book from Adam's perspective in which Gaston's father was the grounds keeper at Adam's castle. I played around with that idea, and my sister and I wondered if Adam and Gaston were friends as children. Gaston's memory would have been erased just like everyone else's. 
> 
> So, thank my little sister for this one because she and I were talking about what that idea would have lead to one night. Also, stanfou queen on tumblr helped me clean up this idea a little bit when we realized that part of Gaston's war obsession might have been because he literally remembers nothing else. I might have got the dates of the war wrong in relation to what I've set up in other fics? I don't know. 
> 
> But, anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this story! I kind of liked writing Gaston's slow decent into madness. More on that to come maybe. 
> 
> Welp. That's all I got for ya.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	6. First

Adam and Belle had been gathering some of their belongings, and were packing the gifts they had purchased for each other carefully. The couple was having just slightly too much fun preparing for their honeymoon. The smiles spread across their faces as they tried to keep the romantic objects they’d chosen secret from each other. 

Adam sweeps Belle into a particularly passionate kiss when Maurice enters the room. Adam spots him first and goes completely red all the way up to his ears. Belle just pulls at a loose thread on her skirt trying to hide her amusement and embarrassment. Maurice smiles shaking his head at the familiarity of the situation and a sense of deja vu washes over him when he sees Adam’s shocked face. 

“I came to wish you well.” Maurice grins. “But, I see that you need few well wishes it seems that you’re honeymoon has already begun. We are being spared.”

Belle and Maurice share knowing smiles as Adam’s face, if possible, goes even redder. 

“‘m sorry, sir. I didn’t expect you.” Adam coughs lightly. 

Belle puts a hand on his arm. “He’s teasing you.” 

Adam nods and swallows thickly. “I sort of gathered that.” 

Maurice laughs to himself. “Well, saying goodbye wasn’t my only intention. I have a story for you. It’s a story about a young man and a young woman who fell in love. He was starving and poor, and she was so far above him in class and social standing.” 

He pauses to think a moment and to see if his captive audience has caught on yet. It appears they have, and Belle and Adam have made themselves comfortable near the fire place ready to listen. 

“You can sit down Papa if you like,” Belle offers.

“No, I’ll stand so I can see you both better.” Maurice smiles. “So, now where was I? Ah yes, the young man was very poor when he met the beautiful young lady. She was walking through the courtyard around Notre Dame, and he felt the impulse to draw her. So, he picked up his pencil and drew the woman capturing how the light caught in her dark hair, and how she carried herself with an air of grace and power. He had the feeling she was smarter than him, and he was certainly right. He tried to capture the exact slope of her shoulders, and the sharpness of her eyes that to an untrained observer might look arrogant.” 

He pauses and looks at Belle, and she’s smiling sadly. 

Maurice watches Adam and notices that Adam’s hand drifts towards his daughter’s.

“He was so caught in his drawing that he barely noticed how she approached him. She stood there for maybe a minute or two before saying, ‘M. is that me?’” Maurice laughs. “Needless to say he was so startled that he dropped his pencil. She bent to pick it up and hand it back to him. He blushed and she laughed. ‘You’re very good.” She told him. And, he never forgot the smirk that crossed her face.” 

Belle inches closer to Adam. 

“He offers her the drawing, but she refuses to take it. She tells him he needs it so that they can find each other again. She asks him to meet her for the Mass here on Sunday if he can, and he agrees. They continue to meet each other in secret until one day they’re discovered. Her parents gave her an ultimatum, and she chose him instead of a life filled with saftey and happiness.” 

Maurice looks at the two of them, and the newly weds are staring up at him with questions in their eyes. So, he decides to answer them.

“Her parents wanted her to wait and find someone of her class. They told her they would never support her again if she didn’t wait. I begged her to follow her parents wishes if only because I wanted to protect her from the dangers of poverty. But, she told me, and I’ll never forget this, that her life would be far more impoverished if not for me. So, she left her high class life and endured all the mockery and hatred that came with it. But, she was happy. She was so happy to be rid of the pettiness of it all.” 

Adam nods along with Maurice’s words. He would have loved to meet his mother in the law, and he knew his own mother would have gotten on well with her. 

Belle respects her infinitely more because the context she’s been awaiting all these years has finally been provided. 

Maurice takes a deep breath ready to finish his story. “You know, her parents never found out how she died. I don’t think they even know she passed. I tried to write to them that they had a beautiful granddaughter if they cared to meet her, and that their daughter had passed. I tried to inform them that she lived in a village hidden far away and that they could come and find us if ever they chose. Sadly, I don’t think they ever received the letter. They traveled a decent amount, and I’m sure when their butler saw the letter was from me it was burned. I’d so hoped they received my letter about your wedding, but sadly I’m sure they’ve passed on by now.” 

“I don’t think I would have wanted them here Papa. They’re not really family.” Belle reaches out to take her father’s hand. 

“Yes, it’s hardly your fault that they abandoned you, M. I agree with Belle. She’s right. I don’t think they would have fit in with the rest of my family.” Adam cracks a smile. 

Maurice lets out a soft chuckle. “I doubt they would. I think they would have thrown a hissy fit over our young lovers.” 

“Which ones?” Adam laughs. 

“All three sets of you.” Maurice says with a roll of his eyes. “They would hate all of you. I’m thoroughly convinced they hated happiness.” 

The three of them share a laugh before Maurice looks up at the clock. 

“You two should be off and have a lovely first night together. You’ve waited long enough.” He tosses them both a wink over his shoulder. He gives Belle a barely concealed grin. “Go easy on him.” 

He turns on his heal and walks up the stairs leaving both of them a blushing flustered mess. 

Mrs. and Mr. Potts give him approving nods on his way up. 

“That was nicely handled.” she laughs. 

“I took notes.” Mr. Potts chuckles. 

The trio ascends the remainder of the stairs as Maurice gives one last cursory look over his shoulders.

Maurice can’t help but think about how Belle really is her mothers daughter, and therefore she is far away from the common herd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one shot is the one officially dedicated to my parents even though it's almost a week late. I hope you all enjoyed it because I had a lot of fun writing it. 
> 
> I love Maurice, and the song "How Does a Moment Last Forever" was my mom's favorite new song in the movie. So, I was so excited to write a one-shot focusing on Maurice's back story with his wife as the one that celebrates my parents 25th wedding anniversary. I liked the idea of Maurice finally getting his story out in the open because he obviously loved his wife so much. 
> 
> The last line in this story was a nod to Maurice's little speech in the Beauty and the Beast musical. He says "You are your mother's daughter therefore you are class/ far from the common heard/ unique/ creme de la creme." ~ No Matter What
> 
> So, yeah, I hope you all liked it, and thanks for reading. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	7. Bright

Cogsworth used to called him the “light of his life” when he was small. Lumière would run up to Cogsworth and leap into his arms. He remembers how Cogsworth would pick him up and twirl him around and both of them would laugh. Lumière would spread his arms out wide and make believe he was flying. 

He wonders why he hasn’t thought about those memories for a long time. That was probably one of the happiest times in his life.

Lumière smiles despite the situation as he recalls how Cogsworth would gently lower him back down to his hip. Then, Lumière’s feet would slowly find the floor. Lumière recalls how he sadly grew too tall for the game, but he never forgot it until he did. 

He looks around the darkened castle, and he closes his metallic eyes for a moment. Then, Lumière looks over at the mantel clock next to him. Cogsworth is staring off into space obviously musing or meditating on what to do. 

Somehow, Lumière is not surprised because Cogsworth has always making plans as long as he can remember. 

Lumière believes that Cogsworth is the most organized person he has ever met. Cogsworth plotted and planned, against his wife’s wishes, to make Lumière a permanent member of their family after he'd been abandoned. 

Lumière observes in the clock’s face an uncertainty he has never witnessed before. Cogsworth had always been a solid and sturdy presence in Lumière’s life, and to see Cogsworth so uncertain now sends a feeling of dread through Lumière. 

So, Lumière looks down at his feet because, for now, he still has them. Then, he stares at where his hands used to be. 

_Why a candelabrum? Of all the things she could have turned me into. It had to be this._ He doesn’t sulk because of all of the transformed staff he looks the most human, but he’s still an object.

Somehow, that hurts more than it should. Immense pain courses through him at the thought of being an object again. 

He remembers that night on the doorstep of the big white castle, and how cold he felt standing there in the snow. He can’t recount how he got there, but there he was. 

He recalls how his shaking hand found it’s way to the door as he pulled a threadbare blanket around his shoulders. He was lost and alone, and he just wanted someone to give him something to eat. So, he knocked on the big door.

It opened, and a man with a goofy mustache just stared at him. 

Lumière chuckles to himself because all he did was stare back and cock his head to one side. He didn’t think anyone would actually open the door, and, in retrospect, he wonders why he knocked in the first place if he didn’t expect anyone to open the door. 

He recalls the gentle concern in Cogsworth’s features and how, at that time, Cogsworth's face was free of its many wrinkles. Lumière lets the memories of Cogsworth’s gentleness wash over him. He remembers being led to the kitchen and his too tight shoes were pulled from his feet. He amused himself by playing with Cogsworth’s hands, but swatted him away when he tried to wash his face. Cogsworth called him stubborn as he fought to reveal the little constellation of freckles from underneath the dirt on Lumière’s face.

Lumière remembers Cogsworth asking for his name, and how he now hardly remembers what it is. He still remembers, but it means nothing to him now. 

Lumière wonders when his silly nickname "Lumière" became more his name than his Christian one. He remembers when the Potts family came to the castle, and how Mrs. Potts brought out a different side of Cogsworth. Well, she brought out a different side in everyone. He remembers his excitement to have a playmate in Adam. He almost scoffs at the thought now, but he doesn’t. 

For, a time, it seemed as though he and Adam were destined to be best friends. They were so close at one time that they were nearly inseparable. Then Adam’s mother died, and he would stand outside the door of Adam’s lessons only to be shooed off by the true master of the castle.

Lumière shudders at the memory of Adam’s father. 

He recalls the first night he ever stepped foot in the castle. He will never forget being discovered the kitchen by Adam's father. The rage that the prince flew into was monstrous, and Cogsworth immediately stood to meet Adam’s father eye to eye. Lumière poked out from behind Cogsworth praying every prayer he could remember that the man with the funny mustache would be able to convince the terrifying beast of a man that he could stay at least for the night. 

Cogsworth won the argument, but not at the risk of losing his position if Lumière was to step one toe out of line. Cogsworth became something like his father after that point, and Lumière was obedient, for the most part, until Plumette turned three. 

He chuckles again to himself thinking about the terror she asked him to help her cause, and he thought that he had proved himself to the master well enough that he could play a few harmless pranks with his new friend. 

He shakes his head even now because he should have known better.

The master felt him old enough at the age of eight to take responsibility for his actions, and as he had drawn some faces on eight candelabras he would have to put out the flames of all twenty four candles with his fingers. He wasn't even allowed to lick them first. He put out twenty-four flames with his bare hands. 

Cogsworth dried Lumière’s tears. The fear in Cogsworth's voice was evident as gently admonished Lumière telling him not to do it again. Cogsworth placed a kiss on each finger as he bandaged up Lumière’s hands. 

Lumière looks at the flames sprouting from the candles at his wrists and thinks of the cruelty of the Enchantress' trick. He’d almost forgotten the punishment, but now he doubts he will ever be able to do so again. It’s so much more real now that he is the terror of his childhood. 

Cogsworth began calling him “Lumière” after the incident, but it was all in fun. Somehow, Lumière knew it wasn’t so much about the candles, but that Cogsworth now had a good excuse to call him “the light of his life” permanently.

Lumière looks back at his candle hands, and in the image of his flickering flames he finds some resolve to be the bright light in the darkness that Cogsworth needs. For, Cogsworth’s timely rounds saved him all those years ago. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got three up today! I'm so proud of myself! :D 
> 
> I love these two. Some of you who are following these one shots and who follow my other work (What My Mother Would Have Wanted) might remember this little headcanon I had. So, I was happy to flush it out a little more. 
> 
> Speaking of that, I am probably not going to have much time to update that fic until this upcoming Thursday/Friday when I hope I can find some time to work on it. I'm putting it on a complete hiatus until June 16th, and it will probably be spotty updating until July. I"m sorry about that. I wasn't expecting some big things to come up in my life until they did. So, just to let you know I'm still working on it, but I hit a life snag so it's going to be a little slower. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience! 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


End file.
